The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-09-22

"Well, the next morning after
this incident I felt tragedy in t. air.
The fire had long been smo.. ring,
soon it would break out fiercely.
Devine looked so haggard and unlike
himself that l was shocked and
alarmed, but he assumed q cheerful.
ness which his face belied, as fair Queen
Belle came to the breakfast.room
looking fresh as the morning itself. in
dainty costume that became her
well, and invited both OF her admirers
to come and look at her beds of au.
tumn flowers.
"And why may I not 60, too?' said
:! to her, partly because l was anx-
lous to prevent any outbreak between
those two men, bothwhom were in no
mood to stand the least trifline,
saw. and partly because hoped to
ma an early opportunity for keeping
my last night vow, to speak earnest:
~ again to Isabel. AS We started
talking cheerfulIy in the bright, pleas.
ant morning air, Isabel, either in mere
caprice, or accidentally, I can never
to this day be certain which it was,
dropped upon the terrace, the hand.
kerchief she carried in her hand. Both
OF the gentleman sprang forward to
pick it up and restore it to her, and
both by some wretched fatality caught
it at the same instant. Neither would
loosen his hold.
ut was filmy, cobwebby little af
fair. l remember saying to myself
cynically that it was as light and I'm.
substantial as it's owners affections
"Devine held it by one delicate hem
Harold by the other. Not q word
was said. saw one strange, swift
look OF defiance, challenge, passionate
jealousy pass between the two men,
then suddenly the the little handker.
chief was rent in twain, each man
holding one-half of it in his hand
Well, even Belle was for little time
frightened out of her usual indiffer
ence.
Nothing was said, and l tried tc
turn the incident off with a laugh
Belle joined me, but although the two
men continued to walk leisurely along
one upon each side of the young lady,
and although they praised the flow,
ers and Harold gathered a bouquet
OF them. all as though nothing had
happened. felt that there was Sc
rious trouble ahead. I had seen the
fierce look that passed between them,
and it haunted me all day.
II was called away from the hall
a little after noon, and did
not return until nearly midnight
The old servant who admitted
me said that all the household had
retired for the night, and feeling very
weary, but Intensely thankful to find
that so far no tragic occurrence had
taken place at the hall, full though
the old house was of all the elements
for tragedy.
II slept soundly, and it was late
when entered the breakfast-room.
found that it contained only one oc
cupant. an elderly lady, an old
friend OF Mrs. Ely's. She told me, in
answer to my questions, that all the
guests had breakfasted rather late
that morning with the exception oil
Harold Charters and young Devine,
who, in company with two of their
friends, had come down remarkably
early: Isabel was out for her morning
ramble. could not eat. Something
IN the good lady's information
troubled mo Why were those four
young men out so very early on this
particular morning? And how came
it about-the coincidence of De.
vines brakfasting at about the
same time as did Harold, for
Capt. Devine was usually late in the
morning; and then it all came to me
plainly. That look OF yesterday over
the torn handkerchief. 1t meant q
duel. l said nothing Of nv suspicion,
which, indeed, amounted to convic.
ton, but as soon as possible started
out to find the rivals. All, we'll; hall
| an hour later found them in a little
green glade in the corner OF the park
most distant from the house; but
poor Devine's blue eyes would never
brighten again with love or triumph
or flash challenge defiantly to rival
or foe; they were fast glazing in DEATH
When I appeared upon the scene the
surgeon from the neighboring town
was kneeling by Devine's side attempt.
ing to administer some kind of restor.
alive, while Walter Delaney, one OIL
the seconds, held the poor boys head
in his arms. AS for Harold Charters
well, I am an old man, a physician,
and am familiar with most forms OF
human agony, yet I shall never forget
the awful look ofgrief, horror, remorse
upon the stern, set counte.
nance of Harold as he bent over his
old friend and comrade, DYING
now, stricken down by his own hand.
Suddenly poor Devine frightened ur
a little; he moved his hand towards
Harold's teebly, and whispered pain.
fully: "Good-by, old fellow; Harold
don't take it so hard; it had TO be.
was all to blame. You will win he1
now; God bless her. 1t was all fol-
fair Queen Isabel. Good. byl'' His
head fell heavily back, shudder oil
the graceful, boyish figure, and all
was over. Then, indeed Harold gave
way. He bowed his head over the
body of mis- dead friend and his strong
frame shook in q very convulsion oil
grief.
"All we'll, we'll, it was @ sad affair, and
so useless; all for what, a girls fool.
ish whim. 1But, then, Troy town
AOsA IL OAI " "OAIS11l . WlllI1ls ZOO. 1Ou
will find a. woman's whim at the bot.
tom OF most tragedies and troubles. J
It seems that Devine had sent q
challenge to Harold a few hours
after the handkerchief scene in
the garden, and the affair had been
managed so swiftly and silently
that none of the guests, outside of the
four young men, had discovered what
was going on. Harold had intended
to miss his friend, or at most only
wound HIM slightly, but there had
been some mistake, and the wound
was fatal: an artery was severed, and
Devine bled TO death internally; They
say Harold tried to commit suicide
soon after this duel, and, indeed,
think that his death, which happened
q year later. could we'll be called sui.
eide, since, although he was shot down
in the front of battle, was told by
one of his brother officers that he per.
sistently and recklessly sought rather
than met danger.
1T vas q sad affair, they were both
friends of mine, and fine fellows-yet
1T WAS in thu ooo1 ol6 1uuos wa